


Three's Company

by Piru (pyrefly)



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: 1000-5000 Words, Family, Gift Fic, Implied Relationship, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-25
Updated: 2006-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:11:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrefly/pseuds/Piru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Conrad more closely resembles his mother than most people realize. Cheri POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three's Company

**Author's Note:**

  * For [timberrick](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=timberrick).



> Timberrick's request was Dan Hiri/Cheri, "The scent of regret much like your perfume."
> 
> This lacks its usual spark, compared to my previous work in this fandom, but I didn't feel brave enough to attempt characters or pairings other than ConYuu, so I chose this request. I like Dan Hiri/Cheri but found that I have very little to say about them, so this was kind of hard.

  


Counting out pieces of silverware and moving them to the table with the grace of an exotic dancer, the middle-aged Mazoku carefully goes about the task of setting the dinner table for three. The table already holds an expensive silk covering, upon which rest the finest porcelain plates. A servant knocks on the door and brings in the wine glasses. She inspects them personally, ascertaining that the crystal is of the highest quality and rings with a clean, crisp sound when tapped—music to her ears. As an afterthought, she spruces up the table with a few well-placed flowers, instantly adding life to the lavish display.

  
  


The former Maou rarely bothers with setting the table for dinner—they do, after all, employ maids for such purposes—but when she does, she takes care to make it count. The servants are certainly well-trained, but they lack the discerning eye of the nobles themselves when it comes to creating the specific ambience appropriate for the guest or guests in attendance.

  
  


Gazing upon her labors with a critical eye, Cheri finds that she cannot recall a time recently when she went to such efforts. Not, in fact, since the days when Dan Hiri Weller came to the court to woo her. The mere memory makes her knees weak.

  
  


Of course, before they were betrothed, it was not considered proper for an unwedded lady to be alone in her chambers with a bachelor, and so, even in those days, the table would be set for three, her brother taking it upon himself to act as her guardian while attending dinner with the couple. As the Maou, she could, of course, have prevented it, but occasionally, it was better to uphold social etiquette—_because_ she was the Maou, and because she often had felt so inept at everything else.

  
  


A few times, she had taken Dan Hiri aside and asked him whether he minded the lack of privacy. He’d simply smile—his smiles are what she remembers best, broad and boyish and beaming with light—and say that any time in her company was time well-spent. She’d blushed, then, a foolish girl falling head over heels in love with the roguish human soldier, and she blushes, now, long after Dan Hiri left the Mazoku court, aware that those feelings have never truly died.

  
  


As prone as she is to falling in love, she’s never met anyone since then who could take her breath away quite as well as he could, and the scent of regret fills the room much like her perfume.

  
  


A knock on the door interrupts her reverie. A maid enters quietly and asks if she will be needing anything else. Taking one last look at the table, she finds nothing missing and dismisses the young woman. The servant slips back out of the room with a courteous nod.

  
  


Cheri is still fixing her hair when Conrad enters. She rises swiftly from her seat in front of the dressing table and glides to the door. He takes one of her hands in his and kisses it politely. Then, as he straightens, still clasping her hand, she brings up the other and presses it to the side of his face.

  
  


“My son,” she murmurs as she gazes upon Conrad’s chiseled features and noting unusually vivid sparkles in his eyes, “you grow more handsome every day, it seems. So much like your father.”

  
  


The soldier smiles warmly. “How are you, mother?”

  
  


As she leads him to his seat at the table, she tells him of her travels and experiences abroad—the new faces, the brief flings, and the other adventures of a woman who lost the prime of her life to court politics and has gone on a journey to relive the youth she never had. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and soon enough, Conrad is laughing quietly while she speaks.

  
  


“And you?” she asks when she is finished recounting her tales. “And how fare your brothers and the young Maou?”

  
  


At the mention of Yuuri, Conrad’s eyes light up, and he summarizes their latest enterprises in training the new Demon King to accept full authority over his kingdom. Soon, the conversation shifts to politics and matters of state—though not in great detail, as Cheri never has had the disposition for it—but the former Maou can’t help noticing the change in her son’s expression at any mention of the boy-king.

  
  


A servant enters with the food, and mother and son fall silent. They watch as a maid piles their plates full of roast meat, potatoes, and a healthy portion of vegetables. Conrad himself pours the wine, and once the maid leaves, the two toast to a prosperous future.

  
  


After consuming their meal in silence for a few minutes, he suddenly pauses and asks, “Mother, if I might ask, I’ve been wondering since I entered—why is the table set for three instead of two?”

  
  


Gently rotating her wineglass by the stem, Cheri turns her attention to the empty seat and is lost in memories for a few moments, imagining that the spirit of Dan Hiri is present at the dinner table with them. She can picture his expression as though it were yesterday, listening calmly as she related courtly happenings and personal revelations with bubbling vivacity, much the same way Conrad is now. He truly is the spitting image of his father.

  
  


“Old time’s sake, you might say,” she whispers softly.

  
  


Straightening, she continues with more assurance, “There will be an empty place at all of our dinners together until you bring along the one you love.”

  
  


Conrad’s eyes widen in surprise. Cheri simply smiles back knowingly.

  
  


“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” she says. “I’m just trying to encourage you not to make the same mistake I did. If there is something you desire, then never let it go. I know you might think that your love is purer from a distance, but sometimes the best approach is the most forward one.”

  
  


She cocks an eyebrow to emphasize the implication of her statement.

  
  


Cheri quietly watches as Conrad takes a second to consider her advice, and she finds it ironic that, out of all of her sons, the most strong-willed in battle is also the least assertive in love. But then, she ponders, maybe he doesn’t resemble Dan Hiri as closely as everyone believes. After all, of all her sons, Conrad is the one who inherited her romantic soul.

  
  


“All in due time, mother.” Conrad beams back at his mother with twinkling eyes. “All in due time.”

  



End file.
